Legacy
by xXxGinryuuxXx
Summary: "Death is ever present in the life of an Assassin. We could be dead tomorrow and what would be left of us?" It was no rhetorical question, Faheem realized, and so he thought quickly. "Nothing?" "Exactly! Nothing!"


**Legacy**

_Characters:_ Umar Ibn-La'Ahad, Faheem Al-Sayf with a touch of Altaïr and Malik  
_Pairings:_ None  
_Rating:_ E for Everyone

This is my first Assassin's Creed fanfiction, or at least the first I ever posted anywhere, and I hope you enjoy it. Lemme know what ya think! :D

* * *

Umar Ibn-La'Ahad was not a quiet man.

He was cheerful and loud, though he had mellowed down in recent years, and Faheem Al-Sayf found himself wondering what had befallen his friend to be so utterly silent.

He had found Umar lying upon the roof of the highest tower, actively defying all laws of nature that should have made it impossible for him to stretch out his long limbs the way he was doing, and taken a seat next to him. The castle lay silent beneath them, most Assassin's already asleep and the few sentries that were about ignored them with practiced ease.

"What are you doing up here?" Umar asked after some time of silence between them, never taking his eyes off of the sky.

Faheem snorted. "I could ask you the same thing," he said with a weak glare which he knew Umar could see through without trouble. They had been together for so many years not even a mask could hide their true intentions from the other. But even Faheem could not read his friends mind.

Umar sighed. "I was just thinking of the future," he murmured, his sharp eyes strangely distant. "Of what we would leave behind should we die tomorrow."

Faheem stared at him, at his too relaxed posture and the tightly set jaw. "Why would you do that?"

Umar growled lowly and pushed up into a sitting position so quickly that Faheem could see the sentries flinch and move reflexively to catch him. He did not know how they thought to accomplish this but ignored them for the most part. He knew Umar would not fall, he was too experience and too good to make a misstep like that, but it was amusing to see them huff and turn away once they noticed it themselves. Umar ignored them.

"Think about it, brother," he said, now staring at his worn leather boots. "Death is ever present in the life of an Assassin. We could be dead tomorrow and what would be left of us?" It was no rhetorical question, Faheem realized, and so he thought quickly.

"Nothing?"

"Exactly! Nothing!" Umar threw his hands into the air and fell back onto the roof. The sentries below did their best not to flinch. "No one will remember us in a few years should we die tomorrow." Faheem sighed, running a hand through his short black hair.

"This has never bothered you before so why does it -" he stopped short. "Hasim."

Hasim had been an acquaintance of both Faheem and Umar. He had been a novice with them and gained his hidden blade a year after them. They had not had much contact with him over the years except for a few brief conversations. Just yesterday Hasim had been killed in a fight with a band of thugs. He had died without a wife and child, just as Faheem and Umar were right now. "His death bothers you," Faheem observed, eyeing his friend closely.

Umar sighed. "Yes, somewhat," he admitted, running a hand over his face. For the first time did Faheem notice how tired he looked. Umar was a handsome man, even considered beautiful by many, with his finely cut features, light brown hair and sharp eyes. He always seemed to glow with an inner strength that people were drawn to, be they Assassin or not. Now though, he seemed strangely empty. "His lack of legacy bothers me more than anything."

"What do you mean?" Faheem inquired carefully.

"Do you really need to ask?"

Faheem did not. Umar was talking about how he had died with nothing except his title to worry about, without the thought of a family giving him strength. He had died with no one but his brothers, who were not of his blood and hardly even knew him, to remember he had ever lived. He had died with a certainty of being forgotten in only a few short years.

"Not even a son to carry on his name," Umar mumbled, almost too quiet to hear even in the stillness of night. Silence fell between them. Faheem knew not what to say and opted it safer to just not speak at all in case Umar wanted to think. So he waited him out until Umar sat up once more, leaning onto his hands.

"If you had any say in naming your first born son, what would you name him?"

Already used to his friends strange ways of thinking Faheem pushed the surprise aside. "Malik," he said. "I would name my first born Malik."

Umar hummed.

"Malik Al-Sayf. The King of the Sword." He let the name roll off of his tongue as if he tried to taste it before deciding if he like it or not. "I always imagined you would name your son something less powerful but I admit I like it."

Faheem chuckled. "What about you?"

Umar just redirected his gaze to the sky, eyes seemingly fixed on nothing but Faheem knew him well enough. Umar often looked to the sky and to one star in particular; the brightest in what he had called the eagle.

"Altaïr?" he asked.

Umar nodded. "Would it not be the perfect name for my first born?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad." He gave this name the same treatment Umar had before, saying it slowly and carefully, letting it roll around his mouth a few times. Then he smirked. "It is a good name. Strong and proud."

Umar smiled. "Do you think they will get along? Altaïr and Malik, I mean." Faheem laughed.

"Only you would think it decided we will have sons."

"It is in my mind!" Umar protested jokingly. "So, what do you think?"

"You are impossible," he said fondly, punching Umar's arm. "I don't know. I think they will."

* * *

Many years later, as they watched their two young boys roll around the dirt, Faheem could only sigh.

"Does this count as getting along?" he asked Umar who looked as if a bear was trying to eat his child alive.

Faheem did not understand the worry. While smaller than Malik, Altaïr was definitely the stronger of the pair.

When he did not receive an answer he sighed once more and stepped forward, pulling the two boys off of each other.

"Alright now, that is enough," he said, setting them on their feet about a sword length apart. Malik and Altaïr glared over the small space separating them, dark brown and eagle gold eyes sparking with childish fury.

Faheem sighed while Umar watched on.

Raising these two would prove to be their most difficult mission yet.


End file.
